


Pucks, Pretzels, and Penalties

by thegrayness



Series: the touch of your hand [10]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Tentacles, David Rose Has Tentacles, Hockey Spectating, M/M, Patrick Plays Rec Hockey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24155848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrayness/pseuds/thegrayness
Summary: David (and the tentacles) and Stevie attend one of Patrick's rec league hockey games. Adventure ensues.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: the touch of your hand [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1439239
Comments: 22
Kudos: 111





	Pucks, Pretzels, and Penalties

**Author's Note:**

> So you know how someone says a fic idea and you're like "lol sure" and then 5 other people jump on board and you're like "lol sure" and then you end up writing it? Yeah. You all know who you are and what you did! 
> 
> Thanks to Liz for so much rec hockey information like so much that I never would have thought of. Also for being the best.
> 
> Thanks to TINN for beta and title and general validation and life support etc.

“Oh, thank god, Stevie, what took you so long, I’m _starving_ ,” David said, picking up a few tentacles that had folded themselves into her seat. Stevie just glared at him and shoved a tray of food into his lap. 

David’s mood immediately lifted. “You’re the _best_ , “ he said around a mouthful of fries. “God who knew hockey food was, like, palatable. I guess it’d have to be easy to eat since hockey players have no teeth.”

Stevie sucked down a sip of her slushie. “That’s a stereotype and I doubt Patrick would approve.”

“Patrick is _participating_ in this circus, so I’m not sure he’s in a position to disapprove of anything.” David pulls a nacho out of a tentacle’s grasp and shoves it in his mouth. “God, these nachos.” David moaned. 

It was halftime or the middle period or the lunch break of Patrick’s hockey game, and David was actually enjoying himself. The food helped immensely. 

The tentacles oscillated between stealing napkins from the few spectators near them to wave in Patrick’s direction, and pouting any time Patrick fell to the ice or got smushed (“I think it’s called checking,” Stevie pointed out and David ignored) into the sides of the rink (“I think it’s called ‘the boards,’” Stevie explained and David _also_ ignored). 

David and Stevie were practically the only fans there, and they were only there because David had worked the store alone the day before and Patrick said he _missed_ him (and god, David missed Patrick so much, too). And then Patrick had to go and look at David with his eyes and his face and ask David if he and the tentacles might want to go watch the game.

David didn’t even get to answer, because it was clear the tentacles would be going to the game whether David was interested or not. Patrick kissed David on the cheek and accepted a few shoulder pats from the tentacles before hauling his gear back onto his shoulder and heading out the door. Then David bribed Stevie into going along.

Their seats were near the timeout box and David was glad because being too close to the action when guys were slammed up against the glass would definitely be too much for the tentacles. 

One of them snatched a fried Oreo from Stevie’s tray and waved it around. “Hey!” She exclaimed, reaching up to swat at it. 

David got to it first and took a huge bite, grinning as he chewed. “You’d never think from looking at this place that they’d have the capacity for fried Oreos but here we are,” David said, getting ready to take another bite. 

Stevie snatched the remainder of the cookie from his fingers and stuffed it in her own mouth. “Actually,” she started, mouth full, “Here _I_ am.”

Before David could get another word in, the obnoxious hype music—that David did not recall _at all_ —for the teams blared loudly through the arena. One tentacle nearly knocked David’s entire food tray off his lap, but he managed to catch the box and calm the tentacle before Not Patrick’s Team skated out onto the ice. 

Since there was barely anyone in the crowd (and yet the music?), David did a cursory three claps for the—Sharks, maybe?—and then set his food on the seat next to him so he could prepare to cheer for Patrick’s team. 

The Elm Leafs. 

David got into a deep _discussion_ with Patrick about the absurdity of the name on one occasion, and one occasion only, and it ended with Patrick pouting in the kitchen making dinner and David trying not to laugh as he sincerely apologized for not taking Patrick’s hockey name seriously enough. The tentacles did most of the apologizing, anyway. 

So David stood up and cheered and clapped and several tentacles essentially waved at Patrick as he skated down their side of the rink. He was wearing his helmet so David couldn’t really see his face, but he was #14 and he waved back at them and tentacles _flipped out_ like they did the first time Patrick skated out, and David had to sit down and wrangle them into submission so he could continue getting his snack on. 

A few minutes into the last part of the game, a guy from the other team shoved Patrick pretty hard, and Patrick shoved him back even _harder_ , which surprised David a lot. Then, in a call that David did _not_ think was fair _at all_ , Patrick got sent to the penalty box. The other guy started it! 

Patrick came skating over with his head down, and the punishment overseer opened the door for him. He hopped up into the holding cell and sat down heavily on the bench, pulling his helmet off angrily. 

The tentacles immediately _flung_ themselves at the glass—all eight flat against the surface—and the noise startled both the rink official and Patrick, who looked very, very grumpy. The guard gave them a small smile before turning his attention back to the ice, and David focused back on Patrick. 

Patrick was looking at David and the tentacles with a wide smile and he stood and turned to face them, pressing his hand against the glass. David heard Stevie giggling, and turned to glare at her as she sucked down more of her slushie. He hoped she got brain freeze. 

A few tentacles wiggled across the glass to touch the same spot as Patrick, and David wondered how many of the few fans in the arena were watching this spectacle. David twisted his mouth into a smile, watching the tentacles attempt to interact with Patrick through the glass. They knocked against the window, or, rather, they whacked themselves against the window, and Patrick brought his other hand up to press against it. 

He was laughing, which was beautiful as ever, but David was startled out of his trance when the snack tentacle flopped into his box of food, clumsily grabbed at David’s soft pretzel, stretched itself up near the top of the glass and just _tossed_ the pretzel— _David’s_ pretzel!—over into the penalty box. 

“My pretzel!” David cried out. He stared at his buttery, salty treat as it lay prone on the disgusting floor of the penalty box. “You’re gonna get us _thrown out,”_ he hissed, retracting half of the tentacles just for safekeeping. 

Patrick was doubled over laughing, which was a happy consequence of the Great Pretzel Theft of 2019, David supposed. He sat back down with a huff and consoled himself with more nachos, and Stevie generously offered him her last fried Oreo, and he took it, giving her a small smile in thanks. 

Patrick's sentence ended seconds later, and he blew David a kiss, making Stevie say ‘aw’ and then also pretend to gag into David’s food. He elbowed her in the arm and pressed his fingertips to his cheek, grinning to himself when a tentacle came over to touch his cheek as well. 

*

David didn’t pretend to understand the _minutiae_ of the rules of hockey, but he was pretty sure you weren’t allowed to shove someone into the boards quite like that. It was the guy that Patrick had pushed earlier, and David bit his lip. Was this some kind of retaliation?

The sight of Patrick facedown on the ice for more than three seconds made David’s blood pressure spike, and he stood up anxiously as Patrick slowly got himself upright with the help of two teammates. Several tentacles wrapped themselves around David’s middle and squeezed, like David was a stress ball. 

He set down his nearly empty food container on the chair next to him, and put his hands on the glass as he watched them help Patrick off the ice and into the locker room. 

David turned to look at Stevie, who was standing stock-still, poised to take a sip of her slushie, staring wide-eyed at the rink. “Is—?” David started but a tentacle startled him and wrapped itself tightly around his arm. “Okay,” he said, taking a few deep breaths. “Okay. I mean. It’s hockey. Right. This happens. I’m—let’s—”

Gameplay started up again and Stevie slung her bag over her shoulder. “Hey, let’s wait by the locker room. The game’s almost over,” she said, pointing at the clock. “We have to go around to the other side.” She touched his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sure Patrick’s fine, David,” she insisted. “They’re just checking him out.” 

David nodded. Yes. They’re just checking him out. 

“Let’s go.” Stevie tugged on his arm and then led them out of the stands.

*

The game ended seven minutes ago and David was getting ready to walk right into the locker room and demand to see Patrick. As it was, he’d retracted his tentacles because they were getting wild in the suspense of waiting. “Are they performing surgery in there?” He asked Stevie, who was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. 

“They’re probably just—”

The door swung open and a vaguely familiar-looking sweaty guy in half of his hockey gear poked his head out. “David?” 

“Yes, me, I’m David.”

The guy smiled. “Yes, Patrick described you in great detail while they checked him out.”

“Um, okay?”

“He’s fine. He wanted me to come let you know that he’s fine, said you’d be worried and probably pacing out here, and here you are. He’ll be out in a minute, he’s just getting changed.”

David heaved a deep breath. “Okay. Thank you…”

“Oh, I’m Pete—” Someone in the room called his name. “It was nice to meet you, David. Patrick’ll be right out. I’ll tell him you’re here.” He smiled again and then disappeared as the door swung closed again. 

David turned back to Stevie and puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled heavily. He opened his mouth to ask Stevie if she happened to shove any of their food in her bag before they’d bolted from their seats, but the locker room door squeaked opened again.

“I guess you won’t be coming to any more games, huh?” Patrick joked and David whipped around with a glare.

“Is it safe to hug you?” David asked quietly, taking a step forward. Patrick dropped his gear bag and nodded, and David gently wrapped his arms around Patrick’s shoulders. “Please note, for the record, that I am furious,” he whispered, sniffling into Patrick’s neck.

“Noted,” Patrick replied. “I’m okay.”

“No you’re not because I’m going to kill you.”

Patrick laughed, and David felt it where their chests were pressed together. “Okay, David.” He rubbed his hands down David’s back, gentling them over where David’s tentacles sit, and tucking his fingers under the hem of David’s sweater. He pulled back from where his face was buried in David’s shoulder. “How are they?” He asked, lightly touching the edge of a few of them. 

David made a quiet noise in his throat. “Let’s go home,” he said. 

*

The minute they stepped into Patrick’s apartment and David was finally able to let his tentacles out, they seemed to shift into Full Comfort Mode, because they were all over Patrick immediately, but in a surprisingly gentle way that impressed David. He stood close to Patrick, hands laying gently on his ribs, while the tentacles fluttered around Patrick, stroking his hair and touching his shoulders and poking lightly at his cheeks. 

Patrick grinned at him the whole time, patiently letting the tentacles check him over, as if they were a team of doctors checking all his vitals. If his vitals happened to be his tantalizing shoulder firmness and an alluring flush down his neck. 

After five minutes David had to brush the tentacles away and let Patrick get in the shower. He followed Patrick right into the bathroom, insisting that he needed to be close by in case Patrick needed anything. 

“David the apartment isn’t that big,” Patrick said, amused, as he pulled off his clothes. 

“I’m sitting right here and there’s nothing you can do about it,” David said, planting himself on the closed lid of the toilet. Patrick turned away from David to turn the water on, giving David a great view of his assets, which looked delicious in his sweats. He pushed his sweatpants over his hips and a tentacle darted over to—well, essentially grab his butt. 

“Hey!” Patrick said with a laugh swatting at the offending appendage as he pulled off his boxers. 

David pulled the tentacle away with his hand, looking up at Patrick sheepishly. “Sorry. I was thinking about your butt in baseball pants, so they…” he trailed off.

“Yes, I see your sympathy knows no bounds,” Patrick teased as he stepped. 

“It’s not my fault you have a cute butt,” David muttered and released the frisky tentacle but tried to keep it from disturbing Patrick’s shower. 

*

With a lot of unhelpful attention and contributions from the tentacles, David managed to get Patrick dressed and tucked into bed. “David, I’m not actually sick, you know. I’m fine. I don’t have a concussion. I don’t have anything. I just got winded.”

Patrick’s neck tentacle did not seem to care, as it was frequently laying itself across Patrick’s forehead and then diving behind his neck to come around and rest in the dip of his collarbone. 

David leaned in to kiss the same spot on Patrick’s forehead and then pulled his tentacles back so he could head to the kitchen to make Patrick some tea. “Do you want a snack?” He asked as he filled the kettle. 

“Come lay down,” Patrick said and David turned to see him patting the bed next to him. 

“Tea first. Snack?”

Patrick shook his head but David cut up some fruit anyways while the water boiled. 

In a rare moment of actual helpfulness, (predictably) the snack tentacle grabbed the bowl of fruit to help David carry it, Patrick’s tea, and a glass of water over to the bed. Another tentacle, surely well-intentioned, pushed all of Patrick’s books off the nightstand onto the floor so David would have room to set the items down. The snack tentacle deposited the bowl of fruit into Patrick’s lap and immediately fished inside to get itself around a wedge of pineapple and offer it to Patrick. 

Did David purposely cut the fruit big enough for the tentacles to grab? Maybe.

Once Patrick was set up, David did a quick wardrobe change into some lounge clothes and got into bed with his fiancé. “How do you feel?” He asked after Patrick took another sip of tea. Before he could answer, his neck tentacle swung over to flop across his forehead again. 

David bit his lip to stifle a laugh, but didn’t manage to hide his smile as Patrick let out a put-upon sigh. Poor Patrick, being coddled by tender tentacles. “I’m fine,” he said, and pushed his bottom lip out slightly. “All of this is really unnecessary.” The neck tentacle slid off and squished itself into a pile on Patrick’s chest. David noted the way Patrick scooted down slightly to make room for it, but decided not to comment. 

Two other tentacles wrapped themselves around Patrick’s waist, essentially hugging him. Patrick sighed again, but followed it up with a small smile this time as he put his tea down and lightly stroked the tentacles across his torso. “Okay,” he muttered in their direction. David snagged a bite of a strawberry and snuggled down into the covers, grabbing his own book, still safely on his nightstand, and thumbing to the page where he left off. 

“How long do you suppose this will go on?” Patrick asked a few moments later, and David glanced over to see the neck tentacle on Patrick’s forehead again, and he gingerly reached over to peel it away. He let it drop gently on Patrick’s shoulder. 

“Probably until dinner when they get distracted by all the pizza they’re trying to shove at the both of us.”

“Oh, we’re having pizza?”

David shut his book. “Patrick I’ve had a very trying day, if you recall, I went to a hockey event where my fiance got ‘winded’ and had to exit with _medical personnel_. We’re _having_ pizza,” he said, nodding once. 

“Oh, well, if you’ve had a trying day then we _must_.” 

“Mmm,” David hummed, turning his attention back to his book. 

David read and Patrick drank his tea in comfortable silence, the tentacles drifting randomly over Patrick’s whole body, crossing over to David every once in a while to poke at his thigh, to remind him they were there, as if he could ever forget. Patrick unwound one from around his hand and interrupted David’s reading, taking David’s hand in his. He gave it a squeeze, and David smiled down at his lap and squeezed back. 

David let go and put his book aside again and turned to face Patrick, who scooted down the bed so they were both all the way under the blankets. Patrick pulled him close and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Thank you, David,” he murmured, and David wrapped an arm around his torso, working around several tentacles still very unwilling to let go. 

“You’re okay,” David said and Patrick hummed in agreement. 

“I love you,” Patrick said, slipping his fingers up into David’s hair. 

David sighed happily. “Love you, too,” he said into Patrick’s chest. He was seconds from dozing off for a quick snooze, but Patrick’s stomach growled and a tentacle swatted David’s shoulder as if it was somehow David’s fault that Patrick was hungry. He made a bowl of fruit!

“Okay, okay. What pizza toppings do you want?”


End file.
